


I see you there (what do you do to me?)

by Floodedwiththoughts



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Awkward Namjoon, Clumsy Namjoon, Cute, Cute Namjoon, Fluff, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm practically Yoongi in this, Jimin Is a Tease, M/M, Namjoon is an awkward, Seokjin is Namjoon trash, Yoongi is helpful, i'm namjin trash, namjin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floodedwiththoughts/pseuds/Floodedwiththoughts
Summary: Seokjin's café is usually empty on Monday afternoons, but he has a customer this Monday afternoon who's clumsiness and unknowingness (and just plain cuteness) makes Seokjin fall. Hard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell by now that I'm Namjin trash? Namjin is so damn fluffy and cute and argh I can't take this anymore I feel so attacked. I don't think I can write non-fluffy Namjin tbh.  
> I hope you enjoy what you read! I just wrote this and it isn't edited, so feel free to point out any mistakes.

Seokjin’s cafe is empty, which isn’t unusual for a Monday afternoon. Mondays are the days that yank everyone out of their relaxing weekends back into the horribleness that is work, and Seokjin doesn’t expect people to be dropping by to sip their coffee peacefully on a Monday. A few hurried orders had been in, but the customers had left almost as soon as they’d received their drinks. 

Seokjin’s cleaning up in the back room when he hears the telltale tinkling of the bell on the café door. A customer. He wipes his hands on his apron and makes his way to the register to take the customer’s order. 

The man Seokjin is faced with is much, much younger than he had expected—honestly, he’d expected a sweet elderly woman wanting conversation (he’d had the type before. A lot) or an old man with too much time on his hands (again, a lot). Basically someone old. 

His customer is the opposite of old, however. He’s probably even a few years younger than Seokjin himself, despite being a few centimeters taller. He’s fumbling about in his bag, green head lowered when Seokjin asks, “May I take your order?” 

His head shoots up, and Seokjin can see the man taking him in. He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing and his hands drop out of his bag. He fiddles with his fingers at his sides as he speaks. “Ah—Um…I’d like…” 

“A coffee?” prompts Seokjin helpfully. He smiles, and guy visibly loosens. He’s kinda cute, thinks Seokjin. 

“Yeah,” he says. “And a muffin, please?" He reaches into his bag. "Black,” he adds as an afterthought.

Seokjin laughs. “You want the muffin black or the coffee?” 

The man reddens, and Seokjin finds him endearing. “No—What I meant was—“ He fumbles around his words, and Seokjin cuts him off, putting him out of his misery.

“Coffee, black, and a muffin, right?” he asks. The man nods, apparently having decided that words weren’t on his side that day. Seokjin smiles again, and says, “Take a seat, I’ll bring your order over.” 

Seokjin’s pouring the man’s coffee when loud music starts playing, making him jump and almost drop the cup. 

He turns around to see the man seated at a table with his laptop open in front of him and headphones plugged in, typing something rapidly on his keyboard. His headphones must not have been plugged in properly because Seokjin could hear whatever music the other was listening to all the way over here. 

Seokjin’s about to call out to the man and tell him, when he hears a distinct beat added to the (lyrics-free) music and realizes that it’s the man who’s making the music. Intrigued, he leaves the man alone and turns back to pouring his coffee. 

Seokjin prepares his order and takes it over to him. The man is lost in his laptop, fingers flying as he adds and removes components from his music. Seokjin taps him on the shoulder and his head flies up the same way as before. Same as before, Seokjin can see the moment of recognition in the other’s eyes and he presses his space bar, effectively cutting off the music. 

“Your order,” says Seokjin. The man pulls off his headphones and smiles a little embarrassedly at Seokjin, and holy mother of God who decided to give this man dimples? Seokjin was sure he could take over the world with those dimples. Stop an alien invasion.

“Thank you,” he says. He grabs his muffin, apparently not knowing what to do next, and takes a large bite. 

“Can I get your name?” asks Seokjin. The man says something, but his reply is muffled by the food. He repeats, “Namjoon,” the tips of his ears reddening. 

Namjoon. It suits him. “I’m Seokjin,” says Seokjin. “Is that your own music?”

Namjoon nods, then stops suddenly. “How do you know?”  
It’s Seokjin’s turn to blush. “Your headphones were unplugged.” 

Namjoon starts, his hand reaching to check the headphones port but accidentally knocking over his coffee. Seokjin moves at lightning speed, pushing Namjoon and his laptop out of the way. “Are you okay?” he asks hurriedly, checking the man all over for any signs of injury. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “Most of it landed on my jacket.” His body says otherwise, however. A lot of it was on the floor and on his jacket, but a bit had gotten on his shirt that he was now holding as far away from his chest as possible. His face is twisted in an expression of pain.

“Oh my god,” says Seokjin. “It got on your shirt, are you burnt?” He reaches for Namjoon’s shirt to see if he was okay, but Namjoon grabs it back before Seokjin can act. 

“I’m fine,” he squeaks. Seokjin looks up to see Namjoon’s very embarrassed face. He laughs.

“It’s not like I have a six pack hidden under here either,” says Seokjin, gesturing to his own torso. Namjoon cracks a small smile, but remains adamant in holding his shirt to his chest.

“I have a spare shirt in the back,” says Seokjin, “At least change into that.”

Namjoon agrees, and Seokjin moves to the back room. The room is small, just enough for Seokjin to keep his things and to relax in when he was on break. He moves across the room to the closet he keeps there (yes, closet, what was he supposed to do when his friends came in all freaked out about some party?) and retrieves a plain white shirt. 

Seokjin looks around, kicking a stray wrapper under the couch and after deeming the room acceptable he opens the door and calls out to Namjoon. “You can change in here,” he says, holding up the shirt and gesturing behind him. 

Namjoon makes his way towards him, and suddenly Seokjin feels self conscious because the shirt would be way too big on Namjoon, but he ignores the feeling and places the shirt in Namjoon’s hands.

“Thank you,” says Namjoon, sending another flash of heavenly dimples Seokjin’s way and Seokjin waves it off, trying to hide his flustered self. 

Namjoon emerges with discarded shirt in hand, and Seokjin gulps at the show of tanned skin and collarbones practically thrusted in his face. Seokjin suddenly feels much warmer. That was completely uncalled for, and Seokjin feels attacked. 

“Thank you so much, Seokjin-ssi,” says Namjoon. He looks across the room to his stuff at the table, either blatantly unknowing of Seokjin’s stare or kindly ignoring it. Seokjin hopes it isn’t the latter, but there doesn’t seem to be anything he can do about it (he can’t look away, of course). 

Namjoon moves back to his table, packing up his things. Seokjin finally seems to find his voice. “What are you doing?” he asks. 

Namjoon’s head jerks up and Seokjin wonders whether he does this every time someone calls him. “Oh, I—Uh, I’m packing up?” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, drawing Seokjin’s attention to how attractive Namjoon looks with his disheveled hair. 

“Oh,” says Seokjin. What a wordsmith I am. “Well, thank you for stopping by,” he says at last.

“Would tomorrow be okay?” asks Namjoon. Seokjin stares at him.

“Huh?”

“Would tomorrow be okay to return your shirt?” Seokjin stares again, before finally regaining his senses and forming some sort of reply. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Namjoon is standing at the door, his jacket and shirt hanging on his arm and backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“Bye,” he says, leaving Seokjin with a final sighting of his dimples. As if to proclaim his knowledge of how lost Seokjin is for him, but that's just silly. Seokjin hid it pretty well, after all.

Seokjin finds himself sighing as he leans across the counter, counting down the hours until he can see Namjoon again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namjoon returns Seokjin's shirt. That's basically it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So because of some requests I've decided to add another chapter to this fic told from Namjoon's POV.  
> I'm sorry this took so long, I was super sick and finally was able to complete it today. My mind is all fuzzy because of the fever so I'm not sure about the quality of this fic but I don't think I can do much more in this state.  
> I'll probably go over this in a while to proofread it once I'm a bit better, though.
> 
> Have fun reading it, and if you have any advice for me, I'd love to hear it!

Namjoon is standing around the corner to Seokjin’s café but he just can’t seem to push himself any further. He can feel the sweat on his palms as he clenches his fists, and he feels extremely silly. It didn’t make sense for him to be so nervous; after all he was just here to return a shirt. It didn’t matter if the barista looked like a cross between the sculpted features of a Greek god and the ethereal beauty of an angel.

Namjoon found that he couldn’t stop thinking about his soft features and beautiful hair and tinkling laugh ever since he’d come across them. He’d packed up in a hurry that day, feeling embarrassed about his clumsiness. If he had some time to think, he could compose himself better and return.

He’d walked around a bit after that, and upon spotting an ice cream place he’d stopped. Even the soft swirl of his strawberry ice cream had reminded Namjoon of Seokjin. He looked accusingly at the oblivious girl behind the counter; the ice cream seemed to have been modeled after Seokjin in every way possible. 

Once he’d managed to finish his ice cream, he’d taken out his laptop and tried to work—after making sure his headphones were plugged in—but the thoughts swirling around in his head about the pink-headed barista wouldn’t leave him in peace. It didn’t help that every time Namjoon moved he caught a whiff of Seokjin’s scent from the shirt he’d lent him. He smells like peaches and Namjoon can’t get enough of it.

He’d finally given up working and had gone back home, finding Yoongi, his roommate, already there. Namjoon went straight to his room and made for the bed, but kept tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

He made his way to Yoongi’s room “Hyung,” he said, standing outside Yoongi’s room. He knew not to enter without making his presence clear. Yoongi stopped writing whatever it was in his notebook and looked up to acknowledge Namjoon. “Can I read your lyrics?”

Yoongi closed the book. “No, you may not.” He looked at Namjoon, something registering in his eyes. He got off the bed reluctantly. “What’s wrong?” he asked with a sigh. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” protested Namjoon. Yoongi just gave him the look. The ‘really?’ look, complete with the raised eyebrow Namjoon could never manage. Namjoon sighed. “I’ve been trying to work on that song all day but I can’t concentrate because of this cute barista that won’t leave my thoughts. I couldn’t even sleep it off.”

“He must’ve been cute, then.” Yoongi smirks. “Tell me about it.” 

Namjoon does. “—And I said I would go back tomorrow to return his shirt, but I’m beginning to think that was a horrible idea because I made a complete fool of myself in front of him and what if I embarrass myself more?”

“You make a fool of yourself all the time, Joonie,” replied Yoongi. “This time was the same. Just relax and go tomorrow. You’ll do just fine.” 

“You think so?”

Yoongi pauses to consider. “It is part of your charm, after all. That and your body proportions, because damn.” 

“Okay then, hyung,” replied Namjoon, ignoring most of what he'd just said. “Thank you.”

“Now leave me alone, brat.” Yoongi shooed him out the door and swung it shut as soon as he’d stepped outside.

Yoongi had also been the one to push him out the front door the next day morning, Seokjin’s shirt in hand. Knowing he had no chance against the other, Namjoon had conceded early before Yoongi got the big guns out, because although he might be the laziest person on the planet, when he wanted something done, he would get it done. By any means.

And that’s how Namjoon ended up where he was, palms sweaty, knees weak at the prospect of meeting Seokjin again after the previous day.

Namjoon is still talking himself into moving around the corner when someone rounds the same corner and stops on seeing him, seemingly surprised. 

“Are you…Are you Namjoon?” asks the guy. He’s short, much shorter than Namjoon, with black hair and the squishiest pair of cheeks Namjoon’s ever seen on a person. 

“Um,” replies Namjoon, eloquent as always, “Yeah?” 

The guy smiles, his eyes crinkling into small crescents. “I’m Jimin,” he says, “I work at Seokjin hyung’s café.” 

“Oh,” says Namjoon. He feels like an idiot as soon as the word slips past his lips. He’s really showcasing his way with words today. He wants to add something more, but he doesn’t know what, so he drops it.

“You should probably go in,” says the guy—Jimin. “He’s been waiting for you.”

“He has?” asks Namjoon.

“Of course he has,” replies Jimin. He motions for Namjoon to follow, and Namjoon does. He feels a little like a puppy, but not for long.

“Hyung,” says Jimin, pushing open the door to the café. Namjoon immediately spots Seokjin in the empty café, doing something at the counter with his back turned. 

“Well, that was quick,” says Seokjin without turning around. He looks like he’s kneading something into the counter. “Did you get the strawberries?”

“Of course,” says Jimin, rustling his bag for emphasis. “But guess what else I brought.”

“What is it?” asks Seokjin, still not facing them, “If it’s another bag of Reese’s Jimin I swear to god—” he turns around and spots Namjoon, trailing off. “Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh,” says Jimin, smirking. “I found him on my way back and told him how you were _dying _to—“__

__“Those cakes need to be taken out of the oven,” interrupts Seokjin loudly. The look on his face is enough to kill, but Jimin seems unfazed. Namjoon applauds his bravery. “Don’t stand around here chatting when you have work to do.”_ _

__Jimin grins. “Okay, hyung. Have fun with Namjoon.” Seokjin ushers him through the door to the kitchen, practically pushing the younger through the doors._ _

__Namjoon finally says something. “Hey.”_ _

__“Hi,” replies Seokjin, smoothing down his hair. He offers Namjoon a smile, and Namjoon can feel his insides turning to mush. Namjoon knew it was only a matter minutes before he was lying there as a puddle of Namjoon on the floor._ _

__“I—I brought your shirt,” he says. He internally curses his stammer. He shrugs off one of the straps of his backpack, unzipping it and retrieving the garment. “Here,” he says, handing it over. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands anymore so he lets them drop to his sides awkwardly._ _

__“Thank you,” says Seokjin, smiling again. He looks like an angel come down to earth to bless Namjoon with his purity, and Namjoon feels so very blessed._ _

__“So, uh—“ He’s cut off by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulls it out to see a text from Yoongi. _Don’t forget to get his number, _it read. Was Yoongi psychic? He’d have to ask him later.___ _

____“Sit down,” offers Seokjin hospitably, pulling out a chair for himself. Namjoon takes a seat opposite him and wipes his palms on his jeans as inconspicuously as he can manage._ _ _ _

____Not knowing what to do, Namjoon smiles awkwardly. Seokjin sighs, and Namjoon panics. Was he not supposed to do that? “What’s wrong?” he asks nervously._ _ _ _

____“No, it’s nothing,” replies Seokjin, chuckling. “It’s just—you don’t know, do you?”_ _ _ _

____Namjoon frowns. “Know what?”_ _ _ _

____“The power of your dimples,” replies Seokjin. “Has nobody ever told you before?” Namjoon can remember vague mentions of his dimples, but nothing solid._ _ _ _

____When he shakes his head, Seokjin continues, “I can’t believe it. Someone would have to have mentioned them. They’re so adorable and you could practically drink out of them.” He immediately turns red. “Not like I was suggesting that I would drink out of them or anything, just thought—never mind.”_ _ _ _

____Namjoon grins in reply. He feels much more eased once he knows that Seokjin could mess up too. The prospect of talking to Seokjin doesn’t seem so scary anymore, and they ease into conversation like old friends._ _ _ _

____As they talk, they get to know each other. Namjoon learns that opening up this café had been Seokjin’s dream for ten years, and he loved it to bits. That he had to struggle for quite some time before he’d been able to hire Jimin to help out and relax a bit._ _ _ _

____He’s just about to ask Seokjin for his number when the bell on the café door tinkles, and Seokjin excuses himself to take the customer’s order. Once he’s done handing over the coffee to go, Seokjin returns to their table, wiping his hands on his apron._ _ _ _

____“You’re working,” says Namjoon, getting up. “I should probably leave.” When Seokjin protests, he cuts him saying, “I’d like to see you again, though.” He immediately backtracks. “That is, if you’d like to see me again?” He feels anxious._ _ _ _

____Seokjin just stares at him, then breaks out into a laugh. “Of course I’d like to see you again,” he says. “Here, hand me your phone.” Namjoon does. Seokjin puts in his number, and hands it back. “Call me,” he says with a wink._ _ _ _

____Namjoon flushes. “I will,” he says. He makes his way to the doorway, still looking at Seokjin. He almost trips over a stool on the way and Seokjin laughs. Namjoon decides he would trip over a thousand stools to hear that laugh again._ _ _ _

____“Bye,” he says, lifting his hand in farewell as he exits the café. He holds his cool until he rounds the corner, then finally collapses against the brick wall. His face feels hot, and his brain feels like it just turned to goo in his skull._ _ _ _

____“Oh my god,” he says, rubbing his face. “Oh my god.” He unlocks his phone and scrolls through his contacts until he finds the contact Seokjin put in. He stares at the number on his screen and Seokjin’s name above it._ _ _ _

____He smiles wide._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Well, that's over. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> Kudos if you noticed the little hint of 'Lose Yourself' I put in.
> 
> On the other hand, I'm in desperate need of a beta reader because my beta is sick too, and has loads of work piled up from all her classes so if any of you would be okay beta-ing my fics please comment below.  
> Comment if you don't want to too.  
> Just comment.  
> Please?

**Author's Note:**

> I could imagine this fic so clearly as I wrote, which was awesome and helped me out a lot.  
> I am a needy lost puppy with a laptop that lives and breathes off of comments so please review or say whatever below.  
> I also deeply, truly appreciate prompts so comment below if you have any for me.  
> Thank you so much for reading!


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